


Initial Contact

by Rinari7



Series: Leading the Blind [2]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Blindness, Episode Tag, Gen, Year of Hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 08:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7611247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinari7/pseuds/Rinari7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven is unaccustomed to giving help, but Tuvok is likely also unaccustomed to asking for it on a personal level. She did offer...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Initial Contact

“Tuvok to Seven of Nine.”

She looked up from the partially-assembled temporal shield emitter, and set down her hyperspanner. “Seven of Nine here.”

The response was halting, the pitch slightly higher than normal, the tone hesitant by only a minuscule fraction of a second. “I seem to be in need of assistance. Would you be willing to guide me to bridge?”

Seven replaced the hyperspanner in the toolkit, and closed it with a quick glance around herself. It was the middle of the Gamma shift, and engineering was working on a skeleton crew--although the alpha shift crew complement was hardly larger. “Of course. What is your current location?” She carefully stowed away the device and its components, as carefully as she stowed away her irritation at being disturbed.

“I am unsure. I believe myself to be on deck three, but I could not give you a precise location.”

 

Computer processing had been throttled, and nonessential functions--such as voice interaction in most areas of the ship--had been disabled, which would have rendered the crew location function difficult for him to access. She, however, could access… a nearby console was free, and a quick search told her he was indeed on deck three, section two… not far from his own quarters, ironically.

“Remain where you are. I shall make my way to you.”

“Thank you.” It was stiff, and then the connection was severed.

 

Exiting Engineering, she headed for the vertical Jefferies tubes that she now knew practically by heart. Use of the one currently functional turbolift was restricted to emergencies--even if it did make the tubes a bit crowded during shift changes--and she didn’t believe this counted.

 

“Lieutenant Commander,” she greeted him as she approached, and he turned towards her, one hand resting on the corridor wall. “You wanted me to lead you to the bridge?”

“Yes. Please.” His chin was high, his posture rigid.

“How do you wish me to guide you? Verbally?”

“Perhaps that would be most conducive to learning the route on my own.”

 

His pace was frustratingly slow as he slid his hands along the wall and placed each foot carefully. The hanging cable was not in _her_ way, so she did not think to warn him of it—and when it struck his face he recoiled, violently, and she pressed her lips together. “This is inefficient.”

“I’m sorry it irks you. But I must learn to navigate on my own.” He reached out, groping, and grasped the cable to duck under it.

“I’m sure there is a more efficient way to do this.”

“If you have a suggestion, then feel free to share it.”

“I will guide you physically and describe the route verbally. I would also recommend you familiarize yourself with the surface in a tactile manner…” She grasped his free hand and placed it on the crook of her elbow, his right fingers still splayed over the scorched wall. “Take care not to damage yourself. Not all of the bulkheads are as intact as this one.”

 

“As I am well aware.” His palm felt slightly damp through the fabric of her clothing.

“What makes you say that? If you are damaged, we should—”

“It is negligible. A superficial laceration.”

“I hardly believe you’re qualified to determine—”

“I will have one of the bridge crew examine it, when we reach our destination, if you wish. But I believe the doctor has more pressing concerns than such a minor injury.”

She exhaled and began to walk. “Very well. We are proceeding along the starboard corridor of deck three. Your quarters are approximately three hundred meters behind us.”

 

"Thank you." Almost immediately, she felt his grip tighten. “I would prefer to move at a slower pace.”

Seven slowed, but the feeling was strange, intentionally increasing the interval between footsteps, and shortening the distance covered, striving for a less efficient means of locomotion… “Why are you seeking out the bridge at this hour?”

“I find myself unable to sleep. A better use of my time would be to begin familiarizing myself with the tactile interfaces, particularly the one at the tactics station.”

 

“Admirable initiative.” She tilted her head slightly.

“Though the execution seems to have been lacking.”

“I’m afraid I must concur with you there.” It is a simple observation, and she believed he would take it as such, unlike many other members of the crew with their useless sensibilities.

 

He did not reply, remaining about half a step behind her, his fingers curling lightly around her arm, as if to make only as much contact as necessary. Vulcans were touch telepaths, and they did not engage in physical contact lightly, she knew. Well, she had known Vulcan minds more intimately than he likely knew that of his bond-mate.

Prolonged physical contact was… she was unaccustomed to it. But it was not altogether unpleasant.

Still, she asked. "Is this acceptable? This... guidance system."

"It is perfectly adequate, thank you."

Merely adequate?  
  
“Here is the ladder. It leads straight to deck one,” she murmured, and took his hand from her elbow to place it on the metal rung.

**Author's Note:**

> I must be crazy. This thing was supposed to be a one-shot of a couple hundred words. Bad brain. (Good brain?)


End file.
